It’s been more than three and half years since this column began. In that time, I’ve discussed the way Ginger Snaps used lycanthropy to show the horrors of going through puberty, then how Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed explored concepts of identity and sexuality. Now, the time has come to complete the trilogy. That’s right, this month’s Uterus Horror film is none other than Ginger Snaps Back: The Beginning.
Released in 2004, Ginger Snaps Back: The Beginning is a unique prequel entry into the franchise. Written by Christina Ray and Stephen Massicotte and directed by Grant Harvey, the film transports audiences back to the Canadian wilderness of 1815. Despite it taking place in a different century than the earlier films, Ginger Snaps Back still stars Emily Perkins as Brigitte and Katharine Isabelle as Ginger. The implication is that these two sisters are ancestors of their modern namesakes. Origins aside, most fans were happy to see this phenomenal duo return to play essentially the same characters, just in a very different time.
This entry into the franchise opens with the Fitzgerald sisters traveling, lost and alone, deep in the remote snow-covered forests of Canada. They encounter an indigenous man – simply referred to as “Hunter” (Nathaniel Arcand) – who leads them to a nearby fort. At first, Brigitte and Ginger think they have found salvation, but one look around the outpost paints a very different picture. The front gates are scored with blood and claw marks, and only a handful of men remain at the fort, all of them exhausted and suspicious. It’s immediately clear many of the men don’t want the sisters there, particularly a misogynistic soldier named James (JR Bourne) and the unhinged Reverend Gilbert (Hugh Dillon). Wallace Rowlands (Tom McCamus), the commander of the fort, seems to be the only one on the sisters’ side as he offers them food, shelter, and protection within his walls. Unfortunately, his protection can’t stop the danger that infiltrates the fort.
On Brigitte and Ginger’s first night at the outpost, Ginger follows the sounds of a child crying. She discovers a young boy – Rowland’s supposedly deceased son – locked in a secret part of the fort. When she goes to comfort him, the boy turns and reveals his horrifically deformed face. He bites Ginger before running off. Ginger and Brigitte try to flee in the early hours of the morning, but the fort is attacked by monstrous beasts. In the aftermath of the attack, it’s discovered that one of the dead creatures has a tattoo that belonged to one of the men’s brothers. The men then realize the party they had sent to get more provisions for the winter – the party that never returned – has transformed into lycanthropes. Ginger also realizes the boy who bit her was transforming, which means she is now infected as well.
As the men are picked off by the creatures, and tensions rise, the sisters choose to flee the fort. The hunter leads the sisters to an indigenous elder for guidance. They learn of an ancient prophecy foretelling the arrival of the sisters; they are “the red and the black,” and their fates are tied to the lycanthrope curse. It also says one sister must kill the other. Brigitte goes into a trance state for answers, and all of her visions tell her she must kill her sister to stop the curse from spreading. When she awakens, the elder is dead, and her sister is gone. The hunter brings Brigitte back to the fort, where the men take her prisoner. Reverend Gilbert plans to burn Birgitte at the stake while the others prepare for Ginger’s arrival.
Chaos ensues as Rowland kills Reverend Gilbert to save Brigitte. Ginger arrives to find her sister. After she slashes James’ throat, Ginger opens the gates, letting in the pack of werewolves at her command. Death and carnage take over the camp as the hunter keeps Brigitte safe so she can kill Ginger. When the time comes, Brigitte kills the hunter instead of her sister. Ginger and Brigitte flee as the last of the men are killed, and the fort burns to the ground. Brigitte says, “I’m cold,” to which Ginger replies, “I’m not.” The sisters take each other’s hands, each with a cut on their palms, so Ginger’s blood can infect Brigitte. Together, they strengthen the lycanthropic curse.
Ginger Snaps Back: The Beginning uses the werewolf siblings we know and love to show what it was like to be a woman during this time period. It’s no secret Ginger and Brigitte do not fit the standard for women at the time. They are young and traveling alone, and James even mentions Ginger must have a habit of speaking out of turn after noticing her black eye. They are two independent young women in a world dominated by men who don’t take kindly to strong women. Even the best of these men don’t see the sisters as equals. Most of the men are simply indifferent or distrustful of the women.
James is obviously misogynistic, looking down on the sisters and seeing them as simply objects who shouldn’t speak or have opinions. He very clearly enjoys inflicting pain on women as well. Reverend Gilbert is no better; his religion warps his mind to view all women as sinners just for existing. Even the “good” men don’t see the sisters as real people. Rowland is only trying to keep the peace while protecting his son, and the hunter only cares about Brigitte because he’s using her to end the curse. As with most Uterus Horror, the depiction of sexism is exaggerated for the sake of horror and the time period, and yet it doesn’t feel that far off from today’s worldview.
Of all the horrors the Fitzgerald sisters face in Ginger Snaps Back, nothing is as dangerous as men. They brave the cold and the wilderness without hesitation. Even werewolves seem like a minor threat compared to the twisted and evil minds of men. All Brigitte and Ginger have in this world is each other. Throughout the film, they prove over and over they will always choose each other above all else. When Ginger is bitten by the boy, they both prepare to flee. When Rowland learns the truth and says Brigitte can stay, but Ginger must leave, both sisters go together. When Brigitte is taken prisoner and used as bait, Ginger goes to save her, knowing the risk. When Brigitte is told she must kill her sister to end the curse, she still chooses Ginger.
Mirroring the “together forever” pact made in the first film, the final moments of Ginger Snaps Back: The Beginning show Brigitte willingly choosing to infect herself. It’s both an act of love as well as an act of survival. In a world run by men, the only way for women to survive and escape their rule is with claws and teeth. What was a curse to the men at the fort is a gift to the Fitzgerald sisters. Now, they have all the power they need to survive in the wilderness on their own. What’s more, they have no reason to fear any longer. Now, Brigitte and Ginger will be the ones to strike fear in the hearts of men.
Those who have been following this column for a while might remember when I wrote about 2000’s lycanthropic classic Ginger Snaps. It’s a truly brilliant film that focuses on the experience of a young woman getting her first period and going through puberty while also gradually transforming into a werewolf. It’s what Uterus Horror is all about, and one of the most influential films in the entire subgenre.
In Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed, there is a shift away from the biological correlation between young women going through puberty and lycanthropic transformations. Instead, this sequel highlights the experiences of a young woman growing into her independence and sexuality.
This 2004 sequel was written by Megan Martin (Cult, The Following) and directed by Brett Sullivan (Orphan Black, A Christmas Horror Story), the latter having previously worked as editor on the first Ginger Snaps. Picking up an undisclosed amount of time after the first film, Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed follows returning character Brigitte Fitzgerald (Emily Perkins). Last we saw, Brigitte had killed the werewolf version of her sister Ginger (Katharine Isabelle), but not before she infected herself with Ginger’s blood. Now, Brigitte is living in seedy hotels, regularly injecting herself with monkshood to stave off her transformation.
At first it seems like Brigitte might be on the run from her parents or the law, but after a vicious attack it becomes clear she’s running from a male werewolf that has been following her since she left Bailey Downs. Brigitte awakens after that attack to find herself locked in a rehab center for teenage girls. Unable to access her supply of monkshood, she must rely on the help of Ghost (Tatiana Maslany), an odd young girl staying at the center while her grandmother recovers in the burn ward, and a sleazy orderly named Tyler (Eric Johnson).
Throughout this entire film, Brigitte is trying to be her own person. In the first film, she is almost an extension of her sister. Brigitte and Ginger were inseparable, and Brigitte was always the quiet, meek one who did whatever her big sister said. Yet, between struggling with the same werewolf infection and being plagued by visions of her dead sister, it’s almost impossible for Brigitte to get out from Ginger’s shadow.
In this new environment, where none of the other rehab residents or staff know Brigitte’s past, she is able to be her own person. She’s still fairly quiet and generally keeps to herself, but she also exudes a power she didn’t before. Brigitte has a determination to stand up for herself, as well as an unrelenting survival instinct. With some help, she uses the resources at hand to outsmart the staff to get ahold of the monkshood and escape, knowing that it has to be done to save herself, just as much as those around her.
Brigitte even goes so far as to try to save others from danger, lycanthropic and otherwise. There is a great conversation between Brigitte and imaginary Ginger where Brigitte firmly states she will survive this because she’s stronger than Ginger was. When Ginger points out that isn’t how she remembers the first 15 years of Brigitte’s life, Brigitte replies, “It’s how I remember the last 15 minutes of yours.” This is a pivotal moment for Brigitte to really show the audience that her experiences in the first film made her a tough, capable young woman who will stop at nothing to survive her fate.
What I love about film, and art in general, is that it is so subjective and often open to interpretation. While watching Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed, the events that lead to Brigitte becoming her own woman are apparent to any viewer. What some viewers might not pick up on is how Brigitte’s journey throughout this film can also be seen as a metaphor for her coming to terms with her queerness.
In Ginger Snaps, Brigitte is presented as a generally non-sexual creature, likely due to her age and the fact that she hasn’t gone through puberty yet. In Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed, many of the men around Brigitte express a sexual interest in her, but the only time she even remotely returns those attentions are when her hunger for flesh bubbles to the surface. Even Tyler, who all the other girls fawn over (in part because he supplies them with drugs in exchange for sexual favors), can’t hold Brigitte’s interest.
There is really only one moment in the film when Brigitte seems to genuinely express a sexual desire. One of the group activities Brigitte is forced to do at the rehab center is some kind of meditation session. All the girls lay on yoga mats with a therapist facilitating. Brigitte begins to hallucinate, imagining she heard the therapist instruct the girls on how to masturbate. Believing she sees the other girls doing it, Brigitte begins to touch herself, but she is abruptly awoken from this daydream when she imagines her hand has become a frightening, hairy werewolf claw.
Earlier in the film, Brigitte is in her first group therapy session. Since Brigitte is new and everyone is curious about her, the therapist asks what her “best-case scenario” is. Annoyed at her present situation, Brigitte chooses brutal honesty and goes into the gory details of a lycanthropic transformation including excessive hair growth, affection for feces, and eventually death. When she’s done, the therapist writes one note next to Brigitte’s name: Lesbian?
This scene is played off like a joke at how oblivious the therapist is about Brigitte’s situation, but she might not be far off. As we’ve seen, Brigitte typically has very platonic relationships with men, while she seems more protective of the women and imagines a sexual situation with them. It seems as though the closer Brigitte gets to becoming a werewolf, the more her sexual desires come to the surface, and those desires are more focused on women than on men. Unfortunately for Brigitte, she never really gets the opportunity to explore this side of her sexuality.
The Ginger Snaps films continue to be a shining example of Uterus Horror and the many different facets of this subgenre. The first film focuses on a Uterus Horror story of puberty and burgeoning sexuality. Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed focuses on becoming your own person and coming to terms with your queerness. It’s a compelling story utilizing Brigitte’s lycanthropy to incorporate horror and emphasize her journey of self-discovery. You might even say a larger audience can relate to Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed over the original. It not only speaks to the experiences of women, but the experience of anyone who had to fight to be their true self.
EDITOR’S NOTE: This piece was originally published at Fangoria‘s website on April 17, 2020.
In a genre typically considered “for the guys,” it’s time to give a nod to the ladies. Uterus Horror is a subgenre of horror films that focuses on the uniquely female experience of puberty and the act of coming into your sexuality, using horror elements to emphasize and/or act as a metaphor for that experience. These films are often ignored in theaters but quickly develop cult followings. Columnist Molly Henery, who named and defined the subgenre, tackles a new film each month and analyzes how it fits into this bloody new corner of horror.
Last month we defined Uterus Horror and found its roots with Carrie. Now it’s time to dive into the film that brought about Uterus Horror’s modern resurgence, as well as being my favorite film of the subgenre, Ginger Snaps. This Canadian cult favorite had a small film festival run in 2000 before getting a wide release in Canada and a DVD release in the US in 2001. Directed by John Fawcett (Orphan Black, The Dark) and written by Karen Walton (Orphan Black, Queer as Folk), the film follows the Fitzgerald sisters as one of them goes through a life-altering transformation.
Ginger (Katharine Isabelle) and Brigitte (Emily Perkins), much like Carrie White, are outsiders. They are obsessed with death and the macabre, don’t dress or act like the other girls, and are generally considered dark stains on the otherwise cheery, suburban setting. Even biologically the pair are odd, as both sisters are a few years late getting their first period. Brigitte and Ginger unwisely venture out at night to exact a revenge prank on a school bully, despite knowing there is some kind of dangerous animal on the loose that has been killing the local dogs.
It’s during this excursion that Ginger gets her first period. Only moments later, a strange beast viciously attacks Ginger. The sisters manage to escape with their lives, but this is only the beginning. Brigitte watches as Ginger slowly changes. She is bleeding, hair is growing in places there never used to be hair, she’s more emotional and volatile, and she suddenly has an interest in boys the sisters used to hate. This may sound like normal puberty, but these are all also symptoms of Ginger’s new lycanthropic state.
When Ginger first gets her period, she calls it “the curse.” It draws a clear connection to folklore about werewolves and how lycanthropy is often called a curse. Yet that is the only time there is any notion of mysticism. What makes Ginger Snaps so compelling is not only the parallels between lycanthropy and female puberty, but also the scientific approach the filmmakers took. Puberty is a biological process and, in this film, so is lycanthropy. The fact that Ginger’s transformation is permanent also lends itself to a biological means rather than supernatural. In other werewolf lore, a man can change back and forth at will or changes with the moon. For Ginger, once she becomes the lycanthrope she stays that way. The cycle from the time Ginger is bitten to the time she becomes a lycanthrope takes about a month, just like a woman’s biological cycle.
Brigitte at one point describes her sister’s change as being like an infection or virus as it changes her from the inside out, again not unlike puberty. This is likely a large part of why the early symptoms are so similar. The typical mythos of silver and full moons mean nothing here. It is research and science that lead Brigitte and the helpful local drug dealer, Sam (Kris Lemche), to find a potential cure for lycanthropy, monkshood.
The relationship between Brigitte and Ginger also adds to the adoration fans have for of this film. They constantly bicker and fight, yet would do anything for the other sister. Brigitte and Ginger also provide a fascinating juxtaposition for the audience. Ginger changes into a young woman both physically and mentally. Even without the lycanthropy, many of the changes she experiences would still happen with puberty. She suddenly cares how others view her and wants to be accepted, at least by the opposite sex. Brigitte, on the other hand, hasn’t experienced these changes yet. She and Ginger become opposing forces as Brigitte continues to maintain her individuality and keep a level head while trying to save her sister. Despite everything Ginger does throughout the film, all Brigitte wants is to help the sister she loves.
Of all the different metaphors for female puberty used in Uterus Horror, the transformation of werewolves is by far the most powerful. There is something gory, bloody, visceral, and animalistic about a young woman going through puberty and menstruating that perfectly connects to transforming into a werewolf. It’s a painful and messy process that many try to keep hidden. There have been several films since to use this metaphor in Uterus Horror, but Ginger Snaps seems to have originated and perfected the craft.
Much like Carrie, this Uterus Horror film did surprisingly well with film critics. Ginger Snaps currently sits at an 89% critics’ score on Rotten Tomatoes. When trying to gauge the financial success of the film, it’s a bit more difficult to decipher as the numbers differ depending on where you look. The general consensus seems to be that Ginger Snaps was not a huge financial success, grossing a small fraction in theaters of what it cost to be made. It wasn’t until the DVD release and eventual release on premium cable networks that the film truly gained momentum with horror fans. Now the film has a huge cult following of devoted fans that continually recommend the film to people, helping to grow the fan base. The film was eventually successful enough to bring about a sequel and a prequel. Both of the subsequent films star Ginger and Brigitte, although they don’t connect lycanthropy to female puberty the same way the first Ginger Snaps film did.
Since the release of Ginger Snaps, there has been a snowball effect of more Uterus Horror films. In those 20 years, fans have seen more and more films that focus on the uniquely female experiences of puberty and sexuality. Many of those films have come out just in just the past 5 years. Judging by the cult following Ginger Snaps has, it is only logical to surmise the film revived the subgenre that was started by Carrie. In the history of Uterus Horror, it is important to give credit to Walton and Fawcett for creating this iconic work of art that touched generations of weirdos who had never seen themselves properly represented in film before.
While writing about the importance of Ginger Snaps in the history and evolution of Uterus Horror, I felt the need to speak with Karen Walton. As the woman responsible for writing this pivotal film, which is also one of my favorite films of all time, it was important to ask her about Ginger Snaps, Uterus Horror, and the legacy she created. I reached out to her, and she was kind enough to answer my questions.
In this interview we discuss revitalizing Uterus Horror, creating fierce female characters, lycanthropy and puberty, the film’s cult following, and the future of Uterus Horror.
This interview has been edited for content and clarity.
Molly Henery:Carrie seems to be the beginning of Uterus Horror, but Ginger Snaps brought it back to the forefront of audiences’ minds and started a rebirth of the subgenre. As the writer of such a legacy, did you have any inkling of how fiercely your film would be loved?
Karen Walton: That’s funny because my own company is actually called Inkling. I personally did not have a sense when writing the script that Ginger would have such a remarkable impact on people. I knew I wanted to write something really fresh and ideally original for the werewolf subgenre; that was really my focus then, that challenge. It was director John Fawcett, the film’s spark and our No. 1 contemporary horror fan on the team, who kept me convinced that it was in any way special, as I was writing. And our story editor, Ken Chubb, who helped me weave up the metaphor and really ‘go there’, layer the social/gender stuff in, emotionally.
But I can’t pretend I could foresee as a brand new screenwriter in the Nineties, that the story and characters would find so many friends out in the wider world. I knew the film would be good, because I was working with a great filmmaker and committed producers. But my uterus and I were just trying to write something my girlfriends and I would actually want to go see, something that felt true to being a young woman at that age — to us. The reactions to that simple goal have been a gift, and are sincerely appreciated here.
MH: What do you think it is about lycanthropy and female puberty that creates such a compelling parallel?
KW: To me, women’s experiences in particular are fertile ground for themes of The Body and The Bawdy. If we are healthy and our bodies are functioning as they should at that age, we are constantly contending with a physical transformation that alters how we feel, behave, and perceive the world we find ourselves in. And that world, in turn, is redressing its relationship with us: we are sexualized, monstricized, punished or praised depending on how we handle our nascent womanhood; biologically and psychologically.
The social pressures on young women — the vulnerabilities and dangers we all face, all over the world as we physically and emotionally mature simply due to the fact of our biological gender — are immense. We feel ugly, we feel powerful, we’re not children but we aren’t adults — our agency is limited by our parents, our teachers, our peers; we crave acceptance, we want to hide out in the bedroom and hope it all goes away, we seek to define who we are becoming: sometimes in unfortunate ways. We hunger for things, experiences, relationships, that are new to us. And not always good for us. We’re growing hair that wasn’t there before, we’re bleeding every 28 days and not supposed to talk about how painful and awkward that can be.
That’s a whole new horror to contend with for many, and the reactions that inspires in ourselves and others makes many of us want to rage against it all, lash out even before we can make sense of it. Adolescence is by biological and social design an ongoing transformation, and very personal as an experience. There’s no escaping it, I always felt as though it was something to survive, at 15. And so I imagine is becoming a werewolf. The one became both a mirror and a lens for the other, essentially.
MH: There are plenty of men that love Ginger Snaps, but this is a film that truly connects more with women, for obvious reasons. When you were writing the film, did you have any idea how it would resonate with female horror fans and give them characters they could better relate to beyond the ‘final girl’ archetype?
KW: That women connect with the film, as I say above, was a personal goal for me. When it was written, horror was by and large a man’s world in film, in my albeit limited experience. The male gaze was the frame, with few exceptions. But when I was very young, I had a teacher introduce us to Mary Shelley and Frankenstein, and I was very impressed with the story behind that story: a woman tackling subject matter that seemed reserved — and meant for — only men. The ‘final girl’ existed in my understanding as a viewer and reader only, but I probably hadn’t heard it expressed as we do today, then.
It was more a feeling that I wanted to watch young women I could respect and fathom, in terms of their priorities. I wanted to show that not all young women lived for boyfriends and peer approval, for instance — because I certainly didn’t, and no young women I knew did either. I wanted to show women being sisters, being faulty but meaningful friends, being each other’s support network in an unkind world. I wanted to see women I recognized — over the stock tropes. It turns out I was not alone, I guess – ha.
MH: Ginger and Brigitte are both very strong and dynamic, but realistically flawed characters, which is probably why so many people can relate to them. How did you go about creating these characters?
KW: Thank you. For all the aspiring screenwriters out there, I want to assure you it didn’t all come together in a fast, first draft. If the Fitzgerald sisters feel real, it’s because I took the time and had the team’s support to develop them properly as people, unique individuals, and had a story editor and a director who helped me raise the bar on both, each pass. I would say that Ginger took her final form first: the monsters always seem easiest, because we’re working with and against tropes. You sort of have a pre-cut set of expectations to eff around with, which is always fun. Brigitte was far more challenging, arguably because she was closer to my own character, at that age. It took me several passes to find her true voice, which was so easily eclipsed by Ginger’s more dominant personality at the top of the story.
So I did things like read a lot of books about female adolescent relationships and roles. I read a lot about sisters because I don’t have one, and how they get on at that age in particular. Reading Naomi Wolf’s Promiscuities gave me a wholly foreign but vital window on the adolescent experience of young women that way. And of course, Heavenly Creatures came out while I was writing Ginger Snaps, which was a major inspiration for me, in terms of how I looked at the way each of the girls felt and behaved in the world they were born into, how they might get through an average day if the werewolf had not come to Bailey Downs.
I thought a lot about their futures in a world we all recognize; what they would lose and gain if nothing ever happened to challenge their co-dependent stasis and self-imposed isolation. Then I went about nailing stakes into that coffin of a relationship, ‘being bitten’ became a catalyst/metaphor for the changes adolescence brings to us all: the plot or hard action became only about their unique and increasingly different choices, as they both became what was already built into that bound-to-break relationship.
MH: Why do you think there has been an increase in Uterus Horror films like Ginger Snaps over the past decade?
KW: So much has changed socially, globally, in such a contextually short time. Some of those changes include reimagining and challenging tropes, stereotypes, womens’ roles in classic genres. And of course, who writes and directs movies is now thankfully evolving to reflect a more diverse set of world views: particularly womens’. Our experiences have been under-represented, systemically, in what a scary movie can mean or be. Our views on the genre have historically been so far underestimated, for potency.
Original films and especially horror films tend to express the preoccupations of the society their makers live in, so as our cultures all contend with the wonderful mess we’ve all made of gender politics, it seems good and right and inevitable to me that we will enjoy even more wild, fresh takes on what is truly scary or awful or hair-raising for more kinds of human beings. I think that’s creative evolution at work: it’s the adaptation of a genre to the environment and audiences it now faces, and ideally speaks to. It’s wicked cool. I’m excited about what we’ll get to see next.
